The Elder Burden
by She'sMyWitch
Summary: Esme approaches the Great Wizard with a suggestion resulting in a cataclysmic domino effect threatening the very nature of witchkind's existence. During the summer, selected witches receive an invitation to attend a mystery meeting. Truths emerge which force Hecetae to face her past, threatening not only the lives of those in Cackle's Academy, but all over the witching world.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! This story begins on the same day as the finale, and will continue into the summer holidays and then Mildred & Co.'s second year at Cackle's Academy. I will focus on several characters and their backstories (only as they are pertinent to the plot, of course), so fear not if your favourite does not appear right away. Also, HB will feature in this story MUCH more after I've set the foundations. I appreciate that she's the most popular character, and trust me, Hardbroom will be one of the central characters. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it. :)**

 **Rated T for now, but may become M-rated later. I shall inform you, and also change the rating on the main page if this is so.**

 **Disclaimer: The setting, concept, and primary characters of** ** _The Worst Witch_** **do not belong to me, but to Jill Murphy, with additional characters and concepts belonging to the CBBC, Netflix and ZDF producers. The plot and any AU characters are mine. I am writing this for fun, and do not profit financially from any of this work.**

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 **Chapter 1**

It didn't take long for things to return to normal between Ethel and Esme. After she thought she might lose her forever, Ethel was infused with a love for her sister which, until then, had been eclipsed by jealousy. The beginning was when Miss Gullet turned Esme into a trophy. Knowing her magic would never be powerful enough to change her back, she realised that, unless help arrived, which was unlikely, she would have no way of getting her sister back. Of course, she knew that she would ask her parents to undo the spell, but telling them _how_ Esme came to be a trophy, and _how_ Agatha Cackle and Miss Gullet took over the Academy wasn't on her list of things to do.

When she returned to her room to keep Esme safe (she realised that the new head teachers were unlikely to allow her simply go home and tell her parents what happened), she began to realise that she had done something _really_ bad. Her motives were simply driven by jealousy – with Esme no longer a witch, she would be the eldest, and not only inherit Granny Hallow's broomstick, but her mother's attention. Agatha promised to make her Head Girl if she agreed to help her take the Academy, and Ethel thought it was a win-win plan. She would get what she wanted, while the rightful headmistress would get her Academy.

She felt so stupid when she argued that Agatha had a right to the Academy based on her age – hadn't she been arguing against Esme's inheritable rights since she was old enough to clasp a broomstick? It was only then that the gravity of the situation occurred to her. Her stoicism had resulted in her losing her sister, and she realised that, for once, she would have to fix the mess she created by herself. Esmeralda was no longer able to fix it for her.

Oh, but that feeling of satisfaction once her powers were gone… no more competition… she would _have_ to be the best… in the heat of the moment, she couldn't care less for Esmeralda's anger. After Agatha had… dealt with… (she could only ever think of it with a preparatory mental gulp) Ada, she sent the girls to their rooms. She didn't like what she had seen, but she pushed that aside… _it's your life_ , Esmeralda had told her. So she did what she had to do. That was what a good witch would do, after all. Whatever flack she had to take, she would take. She was going to be Head Girl. Head Daughter. What was a little anger compared to all that?

But Esmeralda had not been angry. Not after that moment of enlightenment, that is. That's what changed her exclamation mark on that night into a question mark. Esme stood at Ethel's door, resting one hand on the doorframe, the other hanging listlessly by her side, on the verge of tears. Ethel was waiting for the lecture. _Bad daughter. Bad sister. We always knew you would pull something like this. Second-rate witch. Runt of the litter._ But no. Esme said something which Ethel couldn't fight. All she could do was flick her fingers and shut the door.

'Ethy, why?'

That was Esmeralda all over… wouldn't even give her the chance to argue. She would have slept a lot sooner if she had.

Once the calamity had subsided, and the Academy returned to something resembling normality, Esme found Ethel sitting on the lawn, her back against a tree, with her head hanging. Aside from her left leg folding towards her body, her knee in the air with an arm draped over it, her limbs were listless. She knew something was wrong when she found Nightstar yowling outside Ethel's room. Esme always joked that the only living thing Ethel liked was her cat. After scratching her behind the ear a few times, she let Nightstar into the room and shut the door after her, knowing that cat's penchant for wandering where she shouldn't. Even when Ethel went for a fly, she always ensured Nightstar wasn't locked out. She tried the broomshed first, and once she found her broom there, she started walking the grounds. It was then she found Ethel. She felt like her heart was punched; she'd never seen Ethel look so miserable.

Concern for her fellow human always came naturally to her. She never realised that she was a 'type' until Miss Gullet said so.

'Ethy.'

Ethel pressed her chin against her chest, her eyes locked on the ground. When she got no answer, Esmeralda sighed, sitting next to Ethel with crossed legs, and leaned forward so she didn't loom over her so much. She shook her by the knee.

'I'm not here to have a go at you; I just want to talk.'

A few moments of deliberation passed, and Ethel raised her head. She was terrible at apologies, and this was worse. This time she truly believed she was wrong, and she was unfamiliar with the sensation. She didn't like it one bit.

'I'm a terrible sister and a terrible daughter. I get it, okay?'

Esmeralda scoffed, shaking her head.

'Ethy,' she started, shutting her eyes and biting her bottom lip while she thought about how to approach this.

'Why have you this complex about everybody hating you? No one hates you, Ethel. But you just keep… antagonising people.'

'Of course it's my fault.'

'You messed up with Cackle. Right, I get it. But you fixed it, didn't you?'

' _Mildred fixed it, you mean,_ ' she snarled.

'She saved you from being eaten by your best friend, sure. And she got everyone together to cast a counter spell to save the school. But you're the one who brought her here. And you're the one who ran through a crumbling school to save me.'

For a moment, Ethel lost her mask, and released a smile. Then, almost as quickly, a shadow passed over her face.

'Yeah, but I had to do that, didn't I? Everyone will still say that _I'm_ the one who put you there.'

'Who's _they_?'

'Mum and dad,' Ethel spat through her teeth. 'You know that.'

Esme raised her eyebrows.

'Last time I heard, they didn't know a thing. Of course, they'll want to know who saved their "trophy" daughter from being crushed by a building. Look, Ethy, the last time we spoke, we agreed to tell them as little as possible. That hasn't changed.'

Ethel narrowed her eyes, gazing at Esme searchingly. She was waiting for the trick – the punchline – the catch, but she was met with silence and a fond smile. The right corner of her mouth twitched upwards.

'I'm so sorry, Esme.'

'Everybody makes mistakes, Ethy. It's not never making a mistake that makes a person good. It's fixing your mistakes and being sorry for them. And that is exactly what you did. This'll blow over.'

'You really think Cackle's going to keep me on after this?'

'Maybe if you apologise.'

Ethel scoffed, but this was more of an instinctual reaction than scornful. Esme realised this.

'Your plan wasn't to make Agatha headmistress, was it? It was to strip me of my powers and become head girl?'

Ethel nodded, avoiding her eyes.

'You got an idea, and you didn't think about the consequences. You're very young, Ethel, she'll understand.'

'I just wanted mum to notice me for a change. I thought if- that people might finally-' Ethel's voice broke. 'I thought I'd lost you.'

Esme wrapped her arms around Ethel, the latter burying her head in her shoulder. After a little gentle coaxing, she persuaded Ethel to accompany her to Miss Cackle's office. Esme dreaded speaking to Miss Cackle just about as much as Ethel did. She nibbled on her bottom lip while they were waiting to be granted entry into her office. Everybody secretly joked that Miss Hardbroom ran the school, but Miss Cackle wasn't the pushover that she seemed.

When they entered, the first thing they saw was the unflattering portrait of Gullet and Cackle, screaming in the air as they were trapped in a binding spell. It made Esme shudder. It reminded her of just how close they had come to disaster. It made her wonder if Gullet was right. She was so willing to help and sacrifice herself to save her sister that she hadn't thought about how odd it was that Miss Gullet of all people would help Miss Cackle. Moreover, how odd it was that she turned up at her should-have-been empty office in the middle of the night rather than the front door or one of the teachers' bedroom windows.

'The Hallow sisters. We were just talking about you,' Hecetae said in her unique, scathing drawl.

Ethel looked up at Esme who squeezed her shoulder and nodded at her. She continued walking until she stood directly across from Ada, who was seated stiffly, her eyes watchful. When she didn't speak, Ethel decided to break the silence.

'I'm awfully sorry, Miss Cackle.'

Ada sighed, leaning forward and clasping her hands on her desk.

'I really thought we'd finally gotten through to you, Ethel. And you, Esme: you are the last pupil I thought would get caught up in this.'

'I know,' Esme semi-rolled her eyes. 'I was just trying to help, Miss Cackle.'

'That's just it, isn't it?' Hecetae replied, folding her arms. 'You're always _just trying to help_.'

'This wasn't her fault,' Ethel snapped. She had to build herself up before she could deliver the next sentence. 'I… tricked her.'

Hecetae scoffed; in her three-year tenure at Cackle's Academy, Esmeralda Hallow had never fallen for one of Hecate's infamous trick questions, and even when she kicked the difficulty up a few notches and tried to dismiss any of Esmerelda's answers in class, the eldest Hallow sister always had an answer for everything. She was unwilling to believe that a first year had succeeded where she had failed. Ada wasn't so easily blinded. She asked Ethel to explain further.

'My parents are obsessed with Esme and Sybil. And because Esme's the oldest, they give her _everything._ They hardly notice I'm there.'

Ada nodded, understanding and sympathising, but giving none of this away. She put up a hand to prevent Hecetae from interjecting and asked Ethel to continue.

'I thought when I first came here that if I could smash Esme's record, then my mother would _have_ to be proud of me. But _Mildred_ made sure _that_ didn't happen, and you wouldn't give me a second chance to take the exam under fair circumstances. You wouldn't give me a chance to show you that I could _actually_ do it. As far as mother is concerned, Esme entered with a result of ninety-nine percent while _I_ barely scraped a _pass_.'

Ethel looked over her right shoulder at Esme.

'I just hated you…' she looked away, the despair on her face palpable. Her eyes gazed into the distance, in no particular direction. 'Or at least I thought I did… I just wanted to wipe that smile off your face. It's so easy to be good sister when you're given everything.'

Ada started, Agatha's similar words echoing in her mind. _It's so easy to be the nice one when everything goes your way._ Ethel didn't notice, but Esme certainly did. She narrowed her eyes, and Ada nodded slowly back, her gaze intense, screaming at her to leave it until they had a chance to speak in private.

'Miss Gullet came to me and promised that if I was able to get Agatha back her powers, she would make me head girl once she had the school. I thought that if Esme wasn't a witch anymore then mother would have to care about me… so I did it. I knew Esme would give away her powers if it meant saving me.'

Ada pinched the top of her nose with her thumb and index finger, shutting her eyes, hearing everything even though she was in a world of her own. From their very first day, she had seen her struggles with Agatha echoed in Ethel and Esme. All the signs were there. That was the thing about hindsight and nearly fifty years of experience; only as an adult could she identify the signs that something was terribly wrong. Time and time again she wondered if she had behaved differently, could she have saved Agatha. Hecetae argued that Agatha was a rotten apple no matter what happened, and looking at Ethel, she wondered if there was anything that could be done to save her. She didn't know. A part of her she tried to ignore didn't think so.

Ethel looked meekly up at Esme, not knowing what to make of Ada's behaviour. It seemed Esme was reading Ada's mind.

'Ethel understands what she did was wrong, Miss Cackle. She's apologised to me, and she meant it.'

'How many times have we been in this office saying the same thing?' Hecetae interjected. Ada by now had heaved a sigh, resting her head on her clasped hands.

'I know,' Esme's voice shook. She knew that Ethel was skating on thin ice, and that she was the only one who believed in her enough to give her a chance. 'But what I told Ethel before we came here was that she was too focused on me. After Miss Gullet turned me into a trophy…'

Ada's head snapped to attention at this comment. Esme tittered. 'I know. Ethel and I were trying to figure out what to do to fix the mess we caused, and Gullet didn't appreciate my suggestion that she get out of the Great Wizard's way. Ethel kept me in her room to keep me safe, and pretty much told me I should have stayed out of it, and when she said Agatha had a right to the Academy based on her age... well… she realised that her logic wasn't so sound after all. She was the one who wrote to Mildred with an invisibility potion. I _know_ that she did something really bad,' she said, looking from Hecetae to Ada, 'but she has atoned for it. The school was collapsing and she risked her life to save me. I wouldn't have blamed Ethel had she run out of the school, but she didn't. She said she was sorry. She tried to undo what she'd done. Please don't expel her,' Esme finished, her voice losing much of its usual confidence.

'Are you sure Ethel knows what she's done is wrong? This isn't just you covering for her, is it, Esmeralda?'

Before Esme could respond with an offended exclamation in the negative, Ethel cut in.

'I let my jealousy get the better of me, and I didn't think about the consequences. I swear on the Code, Miss Cackle, Miss Hardbroom, that I will never do anything like that again.' She glanced up at Esme. 'I know that there's more to my actions than what I want… that it affects other people… I nearly lost a sister because of it.'

Ada stood, and slowly paced to the other side of the table as she spoke, her eyes on Ethel the entire time.

'You do understand that we can't just let this go. I'll expect to see changes in your behaviour, Ethel Hallow, starting with consideration for your fellow pupil. I'm not going to punish you; I can see thinking you'd lost your sister is punishment enough. But if anything like this happens again-'

'And that includes your ridiculous feud with Mildred Hubble,' Hecetae inserted.

'… you won't get a _third_ chance.'

'Yes, Miss Cackle.'

She patted Ethel on the shoulder, searching the young witch for any traces of remorse, and was relieved to see it painted across her face, and so potent in her eyes that they were on the verge of bursting.

'Run along, then. Your exams won't write themselves. Esme, if you would wait a moment, I have something I wish to discuss privately.' She glanced at Hecetae when she said this. With a huffy breath, Hecetae clenched a fist and disappeared. Ethel made her way to the door more reluctantly, gazing at Esme with ill ease as she slowly shut it, peering into the room to the last moment.

When they were alone, Ada patted a vacant chair for Esme, with she occupying the one next to it. She leaned forward, peering over her round spectacles with her elbows digging into her thighs.

'I get the feeling that there's more you wish to say, Esmeralda.'

'Yes, Miss Cackle.' She glanced at the door, and Ada assured her that there were no prying ears. 'I'm worried about Ethel. I've heard bits and pieces about what's happened between you and Agatha, and it seems as if-'

'As if history is repeating itself,' Ada finished her sentence for her with a knowing smile. Esme nodded, clutching the ends of the arms of her seat, her nails digging into the fabric. 'I have seen elements of I and Agatha's relationship in you two, I'll admit. At first, I thought it was childishness on Ethel's part, and that she would grow out of it, but it seems she's prone to… wayward behaviour.'

'That's what worries me. I don't think Ethel is bad, Miss Cackle. At least…' she hesitated.

'Not like Agatha,' Ada anticipated.

'I'm sorry.'

'It's perfectly all right, my dear. I've spent many years wondering if I could have put Agatha on the right path, but now I'm not so sure. The fact that my mother concealed the truth of our birth makes me think that she sensed something in Agatha when she was young. Unfortunately, alienating her only made things worse.'

'And Ethel definitely feels alienated.'

'It's not easy being the younger sister.'

'I know,' Esme smiled glumly, her eyes downcast. 'When she talks about people alienating her here, I can't say it's their fault. She doesn't exactly make it easy for people to get on with her… but my parents…' she narrowed her eyes, squeezing the arms of the seat. 'I never really saw it until Ethel started here. I know mother doesn't _mean_ to do it, but she does… she doesn't exactly divide her time between us fairly. And I'm afraid if I tell Ethel, she'll run with it. I thought trying to toughen her up was the way to go, but she almost fell off the wagon.'

Ada nodded.

'I need your advice, Miss Cackle. _Please_. A lot of people may not have faith in Ethel, but I know there's a force for good in there somewhere. I'm afraid that if things keep going the way they are, we'll end up losing her.'

Ada sighed, removing her spectacles and polishing them with her cardigan.

'I do see your point, Esmeralda. And a wayward Cackle has proved to be dangerous enough; I dread to think of the power Agatha could yield if she had been a Hallow. When Agatha tried to steal our mother's powers, she was sent to Wormwood's Academy.'

Esme started.

'Yes,' she grinned. 'We thought that would straighten her out, but if anything, it proved to make her even worse. I don't think punishment is the way to go with Ethel either.'

'Then what do I do? If I could give her all I have, I would, but I can't. The Code forbids it.'

'The Code,' Ada smiled bitterly, 'isn't always fair, I've found.'

Esme started in her seat, her face assuming the same look as Jessica Fletcher when all pieces of the puzzle suddenly slotted together and she figured out whodunit.

'Is everything all right, Esmeralda?'

'Erm… yes, Miss Cackle, sorry. I was just thinking that maybe…' she trailed off, pretty sure she shouldn't give voice to her thoughts just then, but scrambling to think of something before Ada caught onto her. 'I think I'll have a chat with mum when we get home.'

'All right, my dear.'

Esme started up.

'My office is always open. You know, making it clear to Ethel that you're on her side sounds like a good idea. Remind her that she has a friend.'

Esme nodded, although she didn't hear what was said. Her mind was already many miles away. There was something she had to do, and she was figuring out just how she would do it. She knew sneaking out of the Academy at night was grounds for expulsion, and given what she was planning, it was highly likely she would be discovered. It all depended on how the Great Wizard dealt with her when she confronted him in Camelot College. After all, invoking Section 5 of the Witch's Code wasn't something to be taken lightly.

She considered it over the next week; Esmeralda was all for the greater good, but family came first. If she could have avoided doing this, she would have (and later, she _wished_ she had done) but seeing how Ethel fortified herself within an emotional garrison increasingly over the next few days, she thought she had no other choice. Besides, there seemed to be a new villain stereotype – the hard-done-by younger sister.

The Great Wizard listened to Esmeralda's request with a grave face, clutching the stray hairs at the end of his chin. Even though he didn't interrupt, he had already made up his mind to dismiss her. However, because he thought a lot of Esmeralda Hallow, he was going to be nice about it.

'I appreciate you trying to look after your sister, but you are asking a lot, Esmeralda.'

'The plan was to do it after Agatha had taken over anyway, so can't you just go ahead as planned?'

'It's not that simple, child, but don't frown like that. It's not your fault; you're very young. That was an emergency. I can't just-'

'I'm sorry, your Greatness… I'm going to have to invoke Section 5 of the Witch's Code.'

He shut his eyes tightly, the Adam's apple in his throat squirming.

'Again, child, you don't realise what you're doing. I'll give you one last chance before binding you to-'

'I'm sure,' Esmeralda replied, stiff-backed and confident. 'I know what I'm doing.'

 _Oh, you don't_ , the Great Wizard thought, _you really don't._

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 **Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. My aim is to post a new chapter at least every Wednesday (to keep our Worst Witch Wednesdays alive! If my job interview goes well, then it** ** _may_** **have to be every second Wednesday, but I'll do my best). However, these early establishing chapters should only be a couple of days apart.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! Your time and effort in reading and reviewing means the world. :) Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter II**

Esmeralda skimmed the top headlines of _The Crack'd Cauldron,_ the witching world's most popular online and newspaper publication. The article she was looking for dominated the first page, declaring that the latest poll indicated that the _Yes_ side had gotten its largest lead yet, currently standing at 56.2 per cent. Of course, it was likely to take a plunge by just as much within a day. The yes-no dominance was like a see-saw.

 _What have I done?_ Esme asked herself as she held out a quivering hand. When a witch enforced rule number five, she was forcing the Great Wizard to begin the process of changing the witch's code. She knew the procedure, but didn't anticipate the public uproar which would follow his announcement. He promised to keep her anonymous for as long as possible. It wasn't that she was ashamed – she was sure of her cause – but she knew that her parents, and particularly her mother, would never forgive her. The Hallows were practically aristocracy, and were traditional with it; the code was law, and the law set forth by the Elderwitches was never to be questioned. The last thing she wanted to be seen as was a troublemaker and embarrassment to the family. It was the Great Wizard's idea – and not hers – to suggest making additional changes to the Code in order to modernise it. The internet was flooded with articles and petitions urging for particular clauses to be added, abolished or amended, and there was an equal number of witches arguing that a wizard should not have such authority over the code, and that it should be left alone. She had been idealistic, she realised; the warmth of feeling people had for the code surprised her. It wasn't as simple as changing the rules; many elder siblings wanted to fight for their inheritance rights, and there were a few isolated instances of violence.

'Esme.'

Esme jumped, suddenly falling back into reality. She knocked her glass of orange juice all over the keyboard and didn't even notice it rolling over the edge and smashing on the floor. She shivered as if struck by a bolt of icy lightening, and shook her head like a dog does after a bath, running her hand through her hair. Once she stopped reeling, she took a sharp breath and turned to see Sybil staring up at her. Esme clapped her hands, and the cup soared through the air, reassembling and refilling in the process, and landed on the table as good as new. Sybil gawped. Esme couldn't help but smile; Sybil was probably the most endearing Hallow of the lot. Her bobbed, side-parted hair had darkened to fair young, but her round green eyes stared at Esme with the wonderment of a childhood yet untainted. Esme felt a pang of sadness; she couldn't remember a time when Ethel ever looked like that.

'I wish I could do that,' Sybil said softly. 'Then I mightn't dread school so much.' Sybil was very much a daddy's girl, and wanted to work in IT like him. Witchcraft, although impressive, never came naturally to her, and like most Hallows, she hated what she couldn't understand.

'Give it a chance, Syb. You might find that you like it… especially when you can do tricks like that and escape mother's dragon attack.'

'Just give me a computer, that's all I ask. Anyway, what are the polls like today?'

'The Yes side has increased. The Americans seem all for it, but England is still teetering at fifty per cent each way, so it's difficult to know which way it will go.'

'Why change the witch's code? I thought it was the law, and surely the law isn't wrong.'

'It _is_ law, but the law isn't _always_ right, Syb. Things take time and a lot of work before they reach perfection.'

Before Sybil could respond, their parents entered the room. Mrs Hallow was carrying a pile of A4 notebooks. Her purple cloak swept along behind her as she made her way to the sofa. She didn't even look up at the girls before getting to work. Mr Hallow was behind her. He towered over six feet and was a distinguished man, with his greying blonde hair thinning just above his ears. He carried a laptop bag and took a seat adjacent to his wife, where he popped the recliner and settled down for a day's work. Mrs Hallow clapped her hands and the recliner snapped into its original position with a slap, Mr Hallow falling forward and almost losing his laptop in the process. Mrs Hallow couldn't count the number of times she'd told him not to put his shoes on the furniture, but he never listened. Mr Hallow, shaking his head at his wife, greeted his girls and asked Esme for an update. She repeated what she'd told Sybil.

'This'll be more chaotic than Brexit,' he murmured.

'How do they change the code?' Sybil pressed Esme.

'The Great Wizard, because he suggested it, is going to host a gathering with witches and wizards from all over the world. They'll decide whether or not _they_ agree with his suggestions. In the case of other possible changes, they'll discuss what they think, make a decision, and then it's up for vote. Magical institutions like schools and universities each have their vote. Then there's the public vote, but that won't hold much weight. The gathering gets the most power, then the institutions, and then the people.'

'What's wrong with the code in the first place?'

'He has petitioned to change the Elder Inheritance clause, which as you know deems the eldest daughter in a family the sole heir to everything, only to be relinquished upon her death.'

Ethel entered, adorned in the traditional Hallow purple garb; leather trousers, a knitted cardigan and a cloak. She was dressed for flying, and was waiting for Nightstar to come to her when ready. She wanted to get in extra practice over the summer before the school auditions for the flying squad. She scanned the room and rolled her eyes when she saw what book Sybil was carrying.

'It's all stuff and nonsense if you ask me,' Mrs Hallow said, shaking her head as she took information from one A4 pad and copied what she needed into a second.

'Well, it's no harm to take a look at the code and see if modernising it would help,' Mr Hallow muttered, popping the recliner again. His leather shoes stood like towers. Before he'd finished his sentence, Mrs Hallow clapped her hands, with vitriol this time. She shook her head at him when she returned his glare. Ethel rolled her eyes, shaking her head before looking at Esme, who smirked.

'Would you _please_ stop doing that?' Mr Hallow spat.

'I'm all for appropriate modernisation,' Mrs Hallow continued as if nothing had happened. 'But changing the code is absolutely unnecessary, not to mention dangerous, and disinheriting the eldest is ridiculous.'

'I think it's a great idea,' Ethel said airily, her nose pointing upwards.

'Don't be ridiculous, darling. Why on earth would one want to choose a younger child over the eldest?' she snorted. 'They don't even compare.'

Ethel shook her head as was her habit when she was holding back tears. Her eyes glazed before she could help it, but she bit her bottom lip so that her facial muscles didn't give way to an emotional outburst. Esme noted this, her own face assuming a gloomy aspect. She glanced at her mother who seemed oblivious to the fact that her middle child was hurting. Esme then rested her gaze on Ethel. She wondered just what it was that hurt Ethel so deeply; she wasn't the only younger or middle child in the world, and her problems seemed to transcend mere middle child syndrome. She had previously presumed that Ethel was just one of those sensitive souls, yet of late, she had sensed something else stirring. She had also seen something she didn't like in her mother; it wasn't a mere misappropriation of the time allocated to each daughter; she seemed to dismiss Ethel completely and utterly. This was strange to her; she had always seen her mother as a supportive parent. Whenever thoughts that she had done the wrong thing in forcing the Great Wizard's hand arose, just one look at Ethel set her mind at rest. Perhaps if emphasis were removed from the eldest daughter, people would come to view each young witch as equal and there would be less Agathas in the world. Like it or not, Esme was the sole heir to the Hallow estate, something which, for a long time, she was proud of. Now she wondered if it was something to take pride in at all; regardless of personality or standing within the family, the eldest trumped her siblings. She didn't even deserve it.

'I agree with Ethel,' Esme broke the silence. Ethel's head snapped in her direction and was a mixture of surprise and relief. Mrs Hallow scoffed, prompting Esme to argue further. 'Agatha Cackle is the elder sister, and she would rather destroy the school than see it in anybody else's hands. You can't tell me that she still has a right to run it just because she's the oldest. Miss Cackle was made to be headmistress; she _deserves_ the school and all the esteem and advantages it brings her. Surely you can't argue that Agatha, who clearly showed no concern for the welfare of her students, should still run it?'

'If everybody had simply obeyed the rules, then Agatha wouldn't have had to force her hand. It's fighting the code that causes trouble, Esme, _not_ the code itself. You saw for yourself what happened when the witch's code was disregarded.'

Esme sucked in her lips, shrugging her shoulders at Ethel.

'Well, if they introduce any new clauses, one of them better forbid you reading rubbish like that,' Ethel gestured the copy of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ in Sybil's arms.

'You're always picking on everything I read,' Sybil sulked.

'Only when it's complete rubbish, and I'm sorry little sister, but you read _nothing_ but complete rubbish. How do you expect to be a proper witch if you keep reading books which get magic _so_ wrong? You are going to be _so_ embarrassing.'

'Well, I don't even want to go to witch school anyway!' Sybil burst into tears and stormed from the room. Her feet could be heard stamping up the stairs. Mrs Hallow scolded Ethel before ordering Mr Hallow to follow their youngest. Ever since returning home, Esme watched Ethel increasingly return to her old ways.

'If you can't control yourself when the family are visiting, then you better pack your bags for Wormwood's.'

Ethel sighed; the Wormwood's threat was old hat and definitely unnecessary. She would never let anybody think that one of her own children had been sent to such an institution. But their mother was always excessive when it came to looking good in front of the Hallows.

The various Hallow households had not come together in almost six years, although the girls had met their aunts and uncles from time to time. Sybil was too young to remember the last time they were all together, which was why she looked forward to their arrival. Ethel was just old enough to recall sitting at the kids' table on her own, she having decided that her snivelly cousins were unworthy of a place at even a miniature dining set in Hallow Manor. Esme, of course, got on famously with everyone, but she found them rather more pompous than the situation called for, and she didn't appreciate the comparisons the adults made when discussing their children. She expected more of the same this time.

'Oh, and Esme, there are university prospectuses in the hall. I went to each one myself to pick them up, and each one, after I told them of your results, are dead excited to have you as a part of their team, so do take a look and see what takes your fancy.'

'Mother… it's a bit… early for that, isn't it? I'm not even eligible for another three, even four years.'

'Nonsense! A top-notch witch like you not knowing what she wants to do with her future? Nobody would believe it. Just be familiar with them in the next week, won't you? It might help you decide where you want to do your work experience this year, and you can tell your aunts and uncles all about it when you see them.'

'I already know what I want to do,' Ethel said.

'Yes, how lovely, darling…'

Before Esme could speak, a message notification sounded on her maglet on the opposite side of the room. She started from her seat as if it had an electric current flowing through it, and seized it before Ethel, who was standing nearest, could hand it to her. Ethel noticed Esme's brows furrowing just before she departed for the hall, pushing the door after her. Ethel took a few steps backward and peered through the gap. Esme was troubled all right, and she scribbled something before tapping the maglet twice. Esme usually tapped it thrice like a knock on the door – a sure, steady rhythm. However, she paused this time before the third strike, the stylus hovering over the screen. She practically hit the screen with the stylus on its third strike and she sighed gloomily as she continued to stare at the screen. Ethel walked closer to her mother's side of the room before Esme realised she was being watched. She wondered what was troubling her, and despite Esme never being interesting enough to land herself into any trouble, she decided that she was going to find out.

'What are you working on, mother?' Ethel asked.

'Oh, I'm making a list of people I can count on to fight these damned code changes. I'm telling you, darling, when one is young, it sounds like the best thing in the world. You don't realise how dangerous this could be; the code is a law written by the wisest of witches and binds witches all over the world. It has protected our kind… to think that some renegade witches and wizards can be trusted to respect the code's foundations…' she scoffed, 'well, then you have another thing coming.'

'And what are you going to do? Write some placards and wave them about at people?'

A shadow passed over Mrs Hallow's face; a kind of malevolence seemed to contort her features, but it was fleeting. Ethel narrowed her eyes, aware that something wasn't right.

'No, we are going to petition the Great Wizard to change his mind, and if he doesn't, then we are going to find out who invoked rule number five.'

'And what? Ethel scoffed. 'Just ask them to change their mind?'

'You'll find there are many ways to persuade a person,' Mrs Hallow replied, looking down at her notes to indicate that their conversation was over.

* * *

For Ada Cackle, the Academy was more than just a school. It wasn't merely her place of work; it wasn't something she was forced into just because her mother claimed she was the eldest. Cackle's Academy was her home.

Despite her misgivings, nothing would have pleased her more than to share the Academy with Agatha. In her school days, she always had Agatha to urge her out of her shell, and she always had her mother to push her to greater heights. Cackle's Academy was always filled with friends and family… or at least it was, until her mother retired.

Agatha had already gone off the rails by the time they graduated, and she didn't even depict the slightest interest in the Academy until their mother decided to retire. Ada had returned as a teacher after she qualified. Agatha was approaching her mid-thirties and realised that life wasn't the party she thought it was when she was twenty; she was bored and wanted a new project. After a spell of good behaviour, she persuaded Ada to let her run the school alongside her. Officially, Ada was still in charge, but within the castle walls Agatha had equal authority. Of course, it didn't take long for her to disagree with Ada's rules and want to assume total control. Each new day brought with it fresh chaos, and Ada, with her mother's support, forced Agatha to leave the school. It was five years until they spoke again, Agatha claiming to want to write about Cackle's and make amends with her sister.

After Mrs Cackle's retirement, the castle was void of any family, and Ada felt as if she were posing for a family portrait with ghosts. As time passed, Ada consoled herself in that it was never her biological relatives who made the castle homely, but the students. They had become like her children, and even though fresh faces inevitably moved on after a few years, their place in her heart never waned. Miss Bat was a long-time teacher, but aging and sometimes muddled by the time Ada took over, and she still missed the days of Mrs Cackle's tenure, despite holding nothing against the daughter. She was just a woman reluctant to let go of the past. The Academy began to truly feel like home again after Ada hired Hecetae Hardbroom.

She'd had her eye on Hecetae for some time and was surprised that a witch of such repute would even consider working in so small an establishment as Cackle's. The first thing that struck her about Hecetae was the sense of tragedy which seemed to follow her. Hecetae Hardbroom was not simply a woman who veiled her feelings with an iron mask of stoicism; it was more that she was unable to articulate the emotions which relentlessly brewed and bubbled beneath the surface. Her first impression upon meeting the young dark-clad teacher was that Hecetae Hardbroom was not an easy woman to be. They had been working together for almost twenty years, and Ada sometimes wondered if she had gotten to know her any better… although she must have, she reasoned. She trusted Hecetae with her life.

One could get to know Hecetae if they knew how. In little acts of kindness and fleeting displays of emotion, she wore her heart on her sleeve. The look of relief which flooded her face when Ada returned to power after Agatha's attempt to take the school was enough to assure anyone that Ada was more than just her employer. In fact, such was her regard that she couldn't even insult her when feigning to embrace Agatha as Headmistress; she merely dismissed her as _satisfactory_.

Time and time again, Hecetae had shown Ada unwavering loyalty. This was why, when Ada received a bill asking for her stance upon changing the Elder Inheritance clause, she sought the opinion of her Deputy Head before speaking for the school.

Ada remained in the castle over the summer, and pined for the general hubbub of school activities. So when she greeted Hecetae in the courtyard, she did so with a warm embrace. Hecetae stiffened, but returned the sentiment.

'I thought your mind would have been made up already,' Hecetae said, sipping tea from one of Mrs Cackle's china teacups. They were seated at a patio table in the courtyard, which was bathed in sunlight.

'Did you, Hecetae?'

'Well, it would ensure that Agatha had no rights to the Academy, and you wouldn't have to worry any further on her account.'

'But what about _you_ , Hecetae?'

'What about me?'

'You've always been a staunch traditionalist. It doesn't take a mind-reader to know that you are against changing the code. But still, I'd like your take on it.'

Hecetae swallowed a lump in her throat.

'I think…' she hesitated, glancing at Ada. She wanted to agree with her, but then exhaled deeply, deciding to opt for the truth. She could never fool Ada anyway. 'I think that a Wizard – even the Great Wizard – has no place changing the Witch's Code. It was written by witches who knew what they were doing, and it has sufficed as a guide so far. I find it strange that he refuses to reveal the identity of his… enforcer.'

Ada nodded, her expression grave. Her right hand was on the table, next to the plate of biscuits, and she drummed with her index and little fingers while she considered. She didn't realise that she always did this when she wanted a third biscuit and wanted to be subtle about taking it. Algernon always made sure they had a plate of biscuits at the staff poker games; he said this was her tell when she had a good hand. Of course, he never said this to _her._

'I do see what you mean. You know, I think it would be best had he just suggested changing the one clause. Suggesting as-yet undecided alterations… it complicates matters.'

'Trusting _modern_ witches and… _wizards_ to maintain the Code's integrity and historical significance is… _concerning_ …'

Ada tried to read Hecetae to see what she was trying to say. Most pupils and staff assumed that Hecate spoke with a scathing drawl, and conducted herself as she did (with sex appeal, swag, and the fusion of someone who was peering into your soul, and on the verge of committing some horrible crime) so that she could unnerve people. Ada did too, for a while, but later learned that Hecetae had every word, tone and mannerism down to a fine art – her grace and poise were all very specifically controlled so that _she_ could remain in control of those convection currents of magmatic emotions beneath that hard exterior.

'But I trust _you,_ Miss Cackle.' Hecetae only ever called her Miss Cackle in front of the girls, when she was feeling submissive, or when she wanted something. 'I know you will do whatever is right for the school.' When Ada didn't answer, she continued. 'It is _your_ school after all, so it is entirely your decision. I will admit that I feel ill at ease, and a sense of foreboding, but no matter what your decision, you have my support.'

'That's what I've been wishing to discuss,' Ada said, peering at her over her spectacles. 'I didn't make you Deputy Head because you were convenient or the most qualified. I gave you the job because I trust the school in your hands, and because I _wanted_ you to be my Deputy. There are plenty of other Cackles who would only be too delighted to have the school. But I don't want that. Cackle's Academy has never been just a school; it's a home away from home for both its staff and its pupils. Where we mould young girls into mature witches by unlocking their potential. I carried on that spirit after my mother, and I want you to continue it after me.'

Hecetae, who was seated with her head slightly down, met Ada's eyes. The vein under her left eye twitched. He never told anyone, but Algernon claimed that this was Hecetae's tell when she had a big hand to play and the stakes were high. Hecetae wanted to be brilliant at everything… even poker…

'I want to give you the school, Hecetae. I want to make you the sole heir to the Academy, and to do that, we most vote yes.'

'I… I don't know what to say, Ada,' Hecetae's voice broke. Her facial muscles were on overdrive, struggling to remain fixed under the emotion trying to give way. She sucked in a breath before swinging herself from her seat and pacing to and away from the table.

'As a vital part of this Academy, and based on what I've told you, I want your opinion. Do you agree that we should consent for the Great Wizard to abolish the Elder Inheritance clause and alter the Witch's Code? If you agree, I am willing the Academy to you immediately.'

Hecetae felt her heart beating not just in her chest, but the pulse throbbed in her throat and ears. She bit her bottom lip to stop it quivering and turned on her heel, her shoe scratching against the concrete, and looked fixedly at Ada. She swallowed, giving her an answer to a question she never thought she would consent to. Everything about her decision felt wrong, but she would support her headmistress and closest friend through anything.

'Yes, Ada. Yes, I consent.'

* * *

Mr Hallow was correct when he said that the upcoming referendum regarding the witch's code would be like _Brexit._ Every second person disagreed with one another, and the Hallows were no different. It was the reason for their coming together, and the discussion around the dinner table became heated. Mrs Hallow led the discussion, she feeling more strongly against it than anyone else. Her ears were beetroot red, and her face was covered in glowing red patches like lava. It was as if the wine she drank went down her throat and straight to the patches on her face. She was spirited, and cut down anyone who dared speak well of the code alterations.

Mr Hallow was seated at the head of the table, with Mrs Hallow sitting at the opposite end. Esme sat next to her on one side with Ethel at the other. Esme insisted that she would only sit with the adults if her sister, now that she was a Cackle's student, was permitted. On Esme's side were Patrice and Richard Hallow, for the code changes, and their eldest son, Gordon. Granny Hallow was next to her son. On Ethel's side were Maggie and Kevin Hallow, against the changes, along with David Hallow, also against changing the code, and his son, Benny. Sybil was in the next room at the children's table with her younger cousins.

The adults refused to enter discussion on what they would do to ensure the code wasn't changed until the children were finished. Granny Hallow gave way for their discussion by asking Esme to speak with her privately. Ethel had always been the apple of her grandmother's eye. Ethel was unnervingly like her granny, especially when she was younger. So when Esme had departed with her grandmother, Ethel excused herself for the evening and followed them. She found them chatting in the living room which was directly across the hall from the dining room. She shut that door after her and cocked her ear at the gap in the living room door, which remained ajar.

'Your mother certainly is against abolishing the Elder Inheritance clause, Esmeralda. I wouldn't like to be the one who forced the Great Wizard's hand if I were alone in a room with her.'

Esme's face was fixed with a worried expression, but she tried to conceal her feelings with a smile.

'Well, you know what she's like – she had us reciting the code before playschool.'

Granny Hallow was wearing a coy grin and watched Esme through narrowed eyes. The girl tittered self-consciously and asked what was the matter.

'I sense a change in you, Esmeralda. You're… how should I put this… unsettled…' she tiled her head. 'And your mother might not notice, but your Granny does.'

Esme swallowed the lump in her throat. That lump seemed to be a permanent resident in those days. Granny Hallow was unlike any of her children; emotional bonds were more important to her than achievement. She and Esme were the only two Hallows who defied what was generally believed to be a Hallow. There was no room for pomp and glory in their agendas.

'I promised Ethy that I wouldn't say anything… but things went bad at the Academy just before summer break, and I'm worried about her, Granny. Worried that she's going to fall onto the wrong path.'

Ethel's face flushed, the glow on her cheeks infernal. She had always suspected that Esmeralda thought little of her, but it was the first time she had heard her be vocal about her opinion.

'I don't know what's wrong with her, but she's so deeply troubled.'

'It's not easy to be the middle child.'

'That's just it,' Esme cut across her with a raised voice. 'This isn't about that. Well, not entirely. She thinks the whole world is against her, and she's always so defensive… she goes around acting pompous and antagonising people; she's always landing herself in trouble, and it all goes back to her belief that we all think she's the bad daughter. I love mother so much, Granny; she's always been the most supportive and proud parent you could ask for, and for a while, I thought Ethel was exaggerating when she said mother obsessed about me over her. But then…' Esme shook her head, struggling to speak further and not cry. She wasn't sure if she should continue.

'Go on,' Granny Cackle urged gently.

'She sent a projection of herself to Ethel's parent-teacher night,' she said, barely above a whisper. 'Who does that? She's been to _every single_ one of mine; could she not even give Ethy just _one_ night?'

Granny Hallow bit her tongue. When Peter first came home with his new girlfriend, she knew she wasn't the sort of woman she wanted marrying into the Hallows. She wanted the Hallows to be a brilliant, magnanimous family, and instead, the future mother of his children epitomised everything people accused the Hallows of being – shallow, pompous, and snooty. Granny Hallow was relieved when Esme had taken after her and was completely impervious to her mother's influence, and Ethel had been a most beautiful child, full of sprightly energy and curiosity.

'That's not quite all, is it, Esmeralda? Where's that smile of yours? That love of the world? What happened at the Academy?'

'I promised Ethy I wouldn't say. I really think she hated me for a little bit, Granny. But when the school started collapsing, _she saved me_. I was a trophy by the way,' Esmeralda said as if it were as normal as getting an A, 'and we barely made it out of there. I'm worried that her bitterness… no, you know, I don't even think it's bitterness anymore… it's misery… but I'm worried it'll send her down the wrong path. I _know_ there's a good witch in there. She just needs the chance to showcase who she really is. I can't explain how I know… I can just feel it… like when she followed me around when she was a toddler. She was such a lovely kid, and then when she was like three, something changed. She's always been my favourite Hallow. She's the reason I… I enforced rule number five… I forced the Great Wizard to suggest changing the code.'

'Esmeralda,' Granny Hallow released a dismayed whisper, dropping her head and shutting her eyes. She felt as if her stomach dropped. She knew no matter how hard she or the Great Wizard tried, that Esmeralda would eventually be found out and be under public scrutiny. 'Don't you know what you've done?' she squeaked in a whisper, like someone trying, and failing, to scream. 'Don't you know what those people in the other room want to do with…' she stopped herself. 'Students have pulled out of Cackle's because of what Ada did, and you and Ethel were almost two of them. Your father was barely able to keep you on there. Do you realise what you've done?'

'Sometimes… like when mother wanted to send us somewhere else. I know mother will never talk to me again if she finds out… and I've heard about nasty duels between siblings… yeah, it frightens me… but the thought that my own little sister will have her dreams crushed, and lose herself because of the code, frightens me more… you're not going to tell mum, are you?'

'Of course not, my dear. Your measures were drastic, to say the least, but this day was coming…' She smirked gloomily. 'Heroism isn't about what a person does… if one person doesn't strive for change, then another will, but the heroism is about who's brave enough to act first. I guess it's taken the shape of my extraordinarily talented, young granddaughter.'

'I just hope these changes are made on time for Ethel. I can't stand the thought of her hating me forever.'

Ethel was aware of the tears sitting in her eyes; they burned and blurred her vision, but she didn't care. She pushed the door open and lunged towards Esme. She stopped short of her, looking up at her, struggling to speak, but managing to release the words: 'I don't hate you, Esme.'

Esme was frozen to the spot, her mouth gaping open, agog. She knew then that Ethel had heard everything and thought she was done for. It took a few moments for the words to reach home. Ethel wrapped her arms around her much taller sister and buried her face in her dress to conceal the silent tears escaping. The truth was that, for a long time, she had hated her, but only because it was easier to hate your sister than your mother. Of course, she hoped never to have to explain why. Mrs Hallow had denied what had happened so vehemently when Ethel was young that sometimes she wondered if she had imagined it like her mother said. She was almost sure she hadn't; the fear was real enough, and she could feel it just as potently if she let herself remember with enough detail. She remembered the discomfort of being soaked with sweat, tears, and urine. Esme's comment on Ethel's drastic change when she was three confirmed it for her, and the fear was real, all right. And if children are liable to remember anything, it is fear.

* * *

Childhood pains are ones which never heal. Even if the raw, throbbing sensation passes, there's always the scar, or the phantom aches and itches of what was lost. Esmeralda was actively trying to save Ethel from this fate, but there was another woman who knew well the vices of a stolen childhood.

Hecetae Hardbroom never slept soundly at night. It was a miracle if she could stay down for a few hours at a time, which was why she was less than amused when Ethel told her some tall tale about Mildred and Enid being trapped in Miss Cackle's office. Had she been woken for a legitimate cause, she'd have gotten over it, but to be woken by some tall tale from a student after a nightmare was just too much; she could have turned Ethel into a rodent. She had launched down the hall, and pulled the key from her waist with such swag that her daytime self would have been jealous, waiting to let rip at whichever student had been the true cause of her disturbance. But she had to return to her room disappointed. She realised afterwards that she had been hard on Ethel, but her emotions had been triggered by the student that had barely waited after knocking the door before swinging it open. It took her right back to being eleven years' old, watching the crack of light beneath the door, and being paralysed by the nauseating fear which engulfed her when the light was invaded by two shadows. Feet. _The body remembers_ a kindly witch once told her, and she thought of it every time she suffered a fright. It was almost like being back in that room.

The same happened again during her summer stay at the castle, when she and Ada were going over the logistics of passing the castle into her possession if the time ever came to do so. The loss of her parents echoed in her chest – that stifling feeling of dread almost crushed her windpipe; the last thing she needed to think about was a world and a school without Ada. And again, she couldn't sleep. The silence of the castle filled her with a sense of foreboding. The only time the world went quiet was when somebody or something was lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce. And in silence like that, one heard every creak in every floorboard, the ticking of the water pipes, and shriek of moving hinges. It was this latter sound that was out-of-place, and Hecetae practically leaped from her bed to investigate it. She was no longer a little girl. No more hiding for her.

She walked on her bare feet, right ear cocked forward to pick up any further sounds. Afterwards she would have no idea why, but she headed for Miss Cackle's office. As she expected she would, she found the door open, waving in the breeze. She looked around her for an open window, but didn't see one. The moon didn't shine on that part of the castle. But there was a definite draft; that was what she heard opening the office door. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Yet, some invisible hand seemed to push her forward. She placed her perfectly still hand (the pulse beneath it, however, was on overdrive) against the oak, which was cold to the touch. She pushed the door open with very little force, and she felt a blast of cold air once she entered the office. The moon shone through one of the open panes of glass, and papers were fluttering and falling from Miss Cackle's desk. Hecetae breathed a sigh of relief and started for the window, cursing herself for being so silly, when a blast of white light exploded outwards like shockwaves from an earthquake and sent Hecetae soaring into the open door behind her. Her back made contact with the door, her head following through and smashing into the top corner. She didn't feel herself sliding down, the jutting lock cutting her back, and slumping on the ground. Her body remained seated, but the top half of her body fell forward.


End file.
